For my youngest daughter

After Maggie Smith

Maggie Smith

of “For Dear Life” offered a prompt on writing place and I ended up writing a poem inspired by her poem featured in that post, “First Fall,” rather than the prompt (which was a good one if anyone is looking for a prompt today). And now, having written the word “prompt” so many times that it has ceased to have meaning… “First Fall” starts with the tender words, “I’m your guide here.”

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I'm your guide here. You have no other
(I count your father and I as one).
So within the ellipse of our arms
is all the safety we can give. 
It’s not much.

We can't control what crawls outside our oval
and it’s getting scarier all the time. You’re still
losing teeth, the edge of your face still 
rounded and soft, an echo of the baby 
you were eight years ago. 

Your eyes are deep set, deep blue
wide with panic in the mornings
when you have to rejoin the waking world.

It’s so hard out here. 
You need knee-pads, elbow-pads, a helmet
and so many kinds of masks
all to keep you 
only a little safe.